


Empty Chatter

by caelum_writes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Conversations, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29182344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelum_writes/pseuds/caelum_writes
Summary: As Castiel enters the empty for the final time, he catches up with an old friend who helps him come to an important realisation.
Relationships: Castiel & Meg Masters, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Empty Chatter

No sooner than he had uttered his final goodbye did the angel Castiel find himself enveloped in darkness. In every cardinal direction and more there was empty. The only thing he could see were his own limbs, illuminated by some directionless yet omnipresent light source. The elation he had felt just moments ago had faded fast as Cas was left only with the echoing consequences of his loving sacrifice, feeling like a fitting bookend on a life lived in service of others. 

With nowhere to go, no place to be and no home in which to belong, Cas took a step forward. And another. And yet another. He walked on, past landmarks of nothing, along a blank path and into an endless future of emptiness. The empty as an entity had not reared its head, avoiding him, perhaps. After all, even appearing before him to gloat would be a mercy in the face of the limitless isolation. As Cas moved onwards through the looming dark, he allowed his mind to wander; to ponder what his friends, his family, were doing now. Whether they had won, which he was certain they would; whether they had found solace in their freedom, that they were happy.

A luxury, indeed, happiness. Cas had been granted but a fleeting glimpse and it was glorious. Though even in the moment it had felt bittersweet, not least in that it was the literal harbinger of his demise, but also in that it was… incomplete. ‘Just saying it’, as he had put it, was a truly joyful moment, sure. But of course, as he had expressed, he never did get the _one thing_ he really wanted. In all of his millions of years, the universes, the stars and the ages, the one thing. And he never would. 

Now, surrounded by nothing, with only his own weary eyes to judge, Cas could allow himself a moment of selfishness. It was still an unfamiliar vice, so perhaps he wasn’t particularly adept, because selfishness to Castiel was little more than admitting, out loud, to an audience of none, that he didn’t want to die. That he didn’t want to give himself up anymore. He wished, he _desired_ , to be given the basic luxury of both; to save the people he loved but to be able to stay with them too. Castiel stopped walking, he stood still, he looked up, if there even really was an up, and in a reversal of reverence he spoke;

“Dean, if you can- if you can hear me, which, I know you can’t; I changed my mind. It’s not enough to say it. I- I want to…” he trails off, even here still struggling to indulge in the act of wanting.

“You want to what?”

A familiar voice, from behind him. A female voice, smooth and draped in snark. Cas turned and there stood the Winchester’s first frenemy; Meg. But Cas was not one to be fooled, knowing the empty’s tricks, and its fondness for familiar faces.

“What do you want? You won.” he said, deadpan and defeated.

Meg raised an eyebrow in a look of confusion.

“Won what? Most disposable ally?” Meg retorted cooly.

“You’re not Meg.”

Meg frowned, before rolling her eyes as realisation dawned. “Okay I know that freak’s been rolling around wearing my face, but it’s actually me Clarence.”

Meg’s reassurance didn’t mean much, however, as Cas remained skeptical.

“It’s not enough for you to leave me here, you really have to play games with me too?”

Meg shrugged _what the hell, dude_. “Games? What, you wanna sit down for a game of chequers? What are you talking about?” Meg questioned, thoroughly confused, and a little offended. “You need me to prove that it’s me?” Meg paused, taking Cas’ silence as a ‘yes’.

“Remember when I was looking after you in the nuthouse, you know, out of the goodness of my heart, there was that guy, Peter, really had it out for you, tried to convince the other patients not to talk to you. And I said I would do something about it, poison his food or something, and you told me not to. Do you remember what you said to me?”

Cas tilted his head, recalling his time with Meg in the hospital as she helped him through his borrowed trauma. There were times, towards the beginning, that were hazy even for Castiel, as the fading visions of Lucifer hanging over from Sam’s mind still blurred his senses to the world around him. Those times were particularly difficult, not just for him, but for Meg as well, as she would often have to fight him in all his angelic strength just to get him to settle down and be still. They were also times when she was the only person in his corner, as Sam and Dean had left him there to deal with the fallout of his actions, and the medical staff were at a loss and frankly fearful of his outbursts. If it weren’t for Meg’s staunch advocacy, he certainly would have been carted off somewhere, god knows where.

And then there were the other patients. Even as he mellowed out, his own guilt and anguish warping the ghoulish visions of Lucifer into a kind of desperate passivity, the other patients had been put off by him. They avoided him, talked about him when they believed him to be out of earshot. They didn’t like to talk to him. Even among those who would be the last to call themselves ‘normal’, Cas was too far gone, too other. And so when one particular patient had turned hating Cas into a spectator sport for the other patients, Meg yet again offered her support. But Castiel, in his fierce aversion to conflict, particularly in service of him as if that hadn’t caused enough pain, had said,

“If being their ‘punching-bag’ as you say, can help ease their pain, then I’m happy to be of service.” Meg continued.

“That’s right,” Cas recalled. “And then I said, ‘but thank you for offering. I’m glad to have you.’.”

“It was nice to be appreciated,” Meg said, through a smarmy grin. “Wish it coulda lasted. But hey, empty’s great.”

Cas felt his stomach drop in a mixture of relief at the sight of an old friend, paired with a pang of guilt, for his failure of her.

“Meg, I’m-” Cas started before Meg raised a hand to halt him.

“No sweat. I’m sure you were super busy with the boys.”

Cas gave a tentative nod, unsure where the line sarcasm and genuine hurt is being drawn. Meg seemed unsure herself.

“So, how’d you get here this time?” she continued, returning to a light-hearted tone.

Cas gave a heavy sigh, “It’s a long story.”

There was a slow nod from Meg as she looked around them. “Well, uh, I’d say we got time.”

She sat herself down on the ground (if it even was ground) and patted the space in front of her, gesturing for Cas to join her. He did so, sitting cross legged opposite her.

“Well, it started when Jack, that’s my son, died-”

“Hold on, hold on. Your _what_?”

“My son,” Cas answered as a matter of fact. “Well technically he’s Lucifer’s nephilim that I suppose I adopted.”

Meg’s face had contorted into a shocked confusion. “Okay, I changed my mind. Give me the short version.”

Cas paused for a minute, trying to formulate a short, understandable, and digestible retelling of how he died. “I made a deal with the empty a while back to save someone. Dean and I were cornered and we would have both been killed, so I cashed in the deal and, well, here I am.”

Cas was taken aback as his heartfelt, though greatly abridged, tale of self-sacrifice was met with laughter.

“Oh Clarence, you died for those brothers _again_. Lame.”

Cas frowned, not sure he could quite see the humour. “I was happy to do it.”

Meg’s laughter faded and she looked him dead in the eyes. “Were you?”

The question, asked with a biting bluntness, cut deep. In a literal sense, he was happy to do it. His happiness was _required_ in order to do it. However, mere minutes ago, he had concluded that in another, much deeper sense, no, he wasn’t.

“Why are you so devoted to them?” Meg continued.

“You know why.” Cas replied in earnest.

Meg merely sighed since, yes, she did know. Her time spent with a much less filtered, and much softer Cas meant that she knew a lot more about the angel than perhaps anybody else.

“Well do they know? Or more specifically, does Dean know?” Meg asked, her voice softer and more reminiscent of her role as nurse Masters than the demon Meg.

Cas took a moment. He was no longer the unguarded open-book that was exposed by a dose of hell-trauma. Then again, the empty is a vault of secrets like no other; there’s no grapevine here, no prying eyes or repercussions. So Cas answered,

“It’s the last thing I told him. The deal I made, it wasn’t for an assist or a hat-trick, it wasn’t designed to help me or anyone else, that was just some creative problem solving on my part,” Cas began to explain, struggling to look up from his fidgeting hands. “The deal was that the empty would take me the moment I allowed myself to experience a moment of true happiness. For me, that was speaking my truth and being heard; telling Dean why I did all the things that I did in the plainest and truest terms. I told Dean how I felt, I actually said-”

Cas’ words are plugged by the lump forming in his throat. The fresh wounds stung, as the shock faded and the pain set in. The pain of realisation that it’s all over. The life he always dreamed of was now further out of reach than it had ever been. Even the future he had envisioned, unfulfilled and alone, yet at the very least always close enough to skim the edges of his wildest dreams, to skirt by on the periphery of the life he wanted to lead. But now it was completely gone, not a speck or a glimmer of anything remotely worth dreaming of. And the feeling was… empty.

Meg lowered her head, trying to catch Cas’ averted gaze. “Did he say it back?” she asked, her voice softer and gentler now, in what to an outsider may have seemed like an uncharacteristic sympathy.

“There wasn’t really time for him to say anything,” Cas stated, his voice quiet. “I think- he- he just asked me not to go.”

Meg gave a soft sad smile as Cas finally looked up at her. “Isn’t that the same thing?” she said plainly.

Cas chuckled slightly at the suggestion; it’s the type of wishful thinking Cas had learned to disregard a long time ago.

“I don’t think so.”

Meg shook her head, smiling, still amused by the strange way the angel’s mind works; able to comprehend higher dimensions but struggling to connect the vast number of dots and signposts all pointing in the same direction.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” Meg chastised, semi-seriously. “All the time he has yearned and pined for you like a lovesick puppy and you just didn’t notice that? What, were you staring at his ass the whole time?”

Cas’ demeanour shifted, his face contorting into a frown as Meg began to brutally pick him apart.

“And all the times he has come running to save you,” Meg continued. “To the point that you’ve been in and out of this place like a goddamn revolving door. It’s only a matter of time before he comes swooping in to save his precious angel _again_. And you think he doesn’t love you? You seriously can’t recognise what it’s like to be loved by somebody? God, must be nice. To even have someone who cares about you so much to keep coming back for you. You know all this time I’ve been here knowing that this is it for me because nobody cares about me like that.”

That pang of guilt Cas had felt in his stomach earlier came back in full force. His body sank as he tried to shrink away from her confrontation.

“It’s not true that no-one cares about you.” he offered, a meek attempt at placation.

“Really, did any of you even mention me once after I was gone?” Meg pushed. “Was there ever even a ‘hey, remember when Meg said this’ or ‘what great times we had with Meg’.”

“Meg, I thought of you often.”

Cas was telling the truth; his time with Meg was definitely important to him, not only in that she essentially was his supporter and confidant, but also just in the fond memories he had of her. She was always entertaining with her sass and quick wit and her deadpan snark. But it was also true that he had never, not even once, considered bringing her back. Nor had he ever really desired it, if he was honest. Not because he didn’t want to see her again, because of course he did, but because oftentimes loss is something you just accept. In a life like theirs it’s par for the course; you make friends, they die, you move on. You don’t cry, or beg or bargain, you just say thanks for the good times and you move on. It wasn’t an angel thing either because Cas had witnessed this from the Winchesters too; there were many friends they had lost along the way that they hadn’t broken down any doors fighting to bring back.

And so Cas understood Meg’s frustration. His thoughts would mean little to her, because she wasn’t saying that he hadn’t been her friend, and she wasn’t upset that he hadn’t tried to bring her back. She was frustrated because he hadn’t appreciated that - and he had come to realise this now - that Dean Winchester must have loved him in a way that was different and deeper. Because Dean hadn’t moved on before, he hadn’t looked back fondly, he had only looked forward at a future besmirched by a void. An absence in the heart. A future that was empty.

“Meg-” he started.

“Hey, you know I don’t need a pity party. It’s fine, I’m just saying it would have been nice. That’s all.”

Cas gave a sympathetic smile. He doesn’t need to say much, they know each other well enough to know that the other understands.

“You know Lucifer came back from the cage and he didn’t bring me back either? So rude. I really know how to pick ‘em huh?” Meg said, shaking her head in resignation

The two shared a laugh.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be getting out of here this time.” Cas stated, an attempt at reassurance for Meg, and a statement of acceptance for himself.

Meg scoffed, _he really hasn’t learned a goddamn thing, has he?_ In a moment, Meg was struck in awe as a blinding light began to shine from behind Cas. Slowly, she rose from the floor. Noticing this, Cas got up too and turned around to face the light.

With a final sad smile, Meg placed her hand on Cas’ shoulder in a solemn goodbye.

“Right on cue, see ya later, Clarence.”

Cas turned his head sharply back to her, he tried to reach out but in a second of blinding white he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that they come back for Meg.. eventually. But left open ended.


End file.
